The American Plight
by Chocolatey Chippety
Summary: Ah yes, the American Dream. The promise that anybody, regardless of background, can come to the United States and work to become anything they want to be. Too bad America himself has to get his act together before even thinking of that dream.
1. An Intro

{Edited so that the flashbacks are more clear :)}

America grinned out of relief.

Wiping a hand over his face, (making sure to be careful of his glasses), he leaned back against a nearby wall. He just left a meeting with the President and it only took five minutes. _Five minutes._ Each meeting America had with that man prior would take at least 2 hours and it always ended in an argument. Regardless of what the rest of the world thought, America and his president did _not_ get along.

 **Fun Fact: Multiple surveys have shown that a majority of Americans consider Donald Trump to be the worst president of all time.**

But that was to be expected. America was never extremely close with his presidents. Most of the time they just acted like babysitters, (granted he was a very powerful child to babysit). As the human representation of his citizens, America would either love his current president or hate him, and it all really depended on his mood.

But there _were_ presidents that America did get along with. Washington? Loved that guy. Roosevelt(s)? Both of them were great. Obama? Sure, he and America would disagree on some things, but that was only because America saw him beyond a babysitter and more of a father figure. (Probably his tenth father figure at this point). It was like America was close enough to him that they were _able_ to disagree at times and still get along. And don't even get America _started_ on Lincoln. However, for the most part, he and his presidents always had strained relationships.

That being said, America's relationship with Trump wasn't just strained. It was _wrenched_. So any chance to get away from that Cheeto was taken. Thus, there America was, standing outside of the main entrance for the Oval Office. All because the nation couldn't stand being in the same room as the annoying orange for longer than he had to.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of what seemed to be a bunch of young children. He faced towards the voices on the right of the hallway with an arched brow. With each passing second, the voices grew louder and louder, until the source of the chatter was seen going past.

It was a class of kids, no older than 4th grade, being led by a tour guide for some field trip. They all paced too quickly to truly admire anything, but it made sense. The White House was _huge_ , and even if those kids were to run there was still not enough time to explore everything in three hours.

But America had an idea. If there were two things he loved, it was kids and talking about himself.

With unnatural speed, America paced through the hallway and turned left at the end towards the tour group. The tour guide had the kids stopped at a portrait of George Washington. She didn't acknowledge America as he stopped right behind her, but the children definitely did. Some raised their brows while others looked about ready to scream "STRANGER DANGER."

"Okay, class, do you know who this man is?" The tour guide motioned towards the portrait.

As soon as the question came out, the kids completely forgot about America and began to raise their hands eagerly.

"Think I might know this one," America leaned over the tour guide's shoulder and the latter froze at the sound of his voice.

Turning her neck a little she made eye contact with America and a fond smile graced her lips. It was the same smile she, Lindsey Goodman, gave him twenty years ago when he comforted her on her first day at the White House. Amazing. Two decades and her smile didn't look a bit less bright.

"Alfred!" Lindsey threw her arms around America and hugged him close. "It's been a hot minute! Where have you been?"

Pulling back from the hug, America shrugged bashfully, retaining his playful grin, "I've been traveling a bit." He winked, "Had to hold back our favorite pumpkinhead from making a _complete_ fool of us in Europe."

She groaned as if she understood, (and in a way, every American did).

"But hey!" America bounced a little on his heels. "How's Jane?"

"Oh, funny you should ask," Lindsey's eyes lit up at the sound of her daughter's name. "She just graduated high school last summer."

America's jaw dropped, "Time really does fly." He closed his mouth and grinned, "That means the little tot is going to college, huh?"

Lindsey groaned, "I know. But, at least she's staying here on the east coast."

"East coast? Let me guess," America pressed his tongue into his inner cheek. Jane was always a smart kid, so she probably went to one of the higher up universities. "Princeton?"

Lindsey nodded her head no, yet suppressed a smile.

"Yale?"

Still no.

"...Harvard?"

A large beam broke out onto Lindsey's face as she nodded her head proudly and America reflected her expression.

"She's studying government."

"That's my girl!" He nudged her. "She had a good teacher, that's why."

"Well 'the teacher' also had a good teacher of her own," she winked, nudging him back.

America's look softened for a second before he glanced at the kids. In the midst of catching up with his old friend, he almost forgot about them, "Hey mini dudes, what's up?"

The kids looked amongst each other excitedly. They suddenly seemed to deem America somebody of value based on the fact that he got along with their tour guide.

"Children," Lindsey straightened her back and presented America with his human name. "This is Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. If there's anybody who knows American history, it's him."

America waved.

"Can he answer our questions?" a girl piped up.

"Um," Lindsey looked at America with a furrowed brow. "If that's… fine with you?"

"Of course it is," America kneeled down so everybody could see him eye to eye. "Ask me anything. Heck. You guys can even ask me about the government or American culture if you want."

"What culture?" A kid said in the crowd.

"Oof," was all America could say in response. Yet, nobody else seemed to really care as a bunch of them raised their hands at once. Raising a pointer finger, the nation motioned at a kid in a red cap.

"Was the moon landing fake?" The kid crossed his arms.

Huh. America should've figured somebody was going to ask that. "Uh-"

 ** _"I'm the Hero!"_**

" _Houston, Tranquillity Base here. The Eagle has landed."_

 _Buzz's words echoed through everybody's headsets and America let out a large breath that he didn't even realize he was holding. His knuckles turned white from his grip on the table and he stared at the screen in the center of the room. The atmosphere within Mission Control has never been so tense._

" _Roger, Twan—" Duke paused at his mistake before grinning and speaking once more into his headset. "Tranquillity, we copy you on the ground."_

 _ **Fun Fact: The first words the first moon-landing team received from Houston were from Charlie Duke, who will eventually be the tenth person to walk on the moon. He mispronounced the landing base's name "Tranquility" as "Twan-" before correcting himself. It was like he was an UwU meme.**_

" _You got a bunch of guys about to turn blue. We're breathing again. Thanks a lot."_

 _That was it. They successfully landed on the moon and the Space Race was finally over. America and his fellow NASA operators began to hoot and pat each other on the back, the formerly quiet room filling fast with voices. However, it seemed everybody's relief of the landing was only temporary, because now the next step was to see if Buzz, Michael, or Neil, whichever one, were able to walk out on the surface safely. Yet none of them were going to step out onto the surface for a while. They still needed to prepare everything properly before even thinking of exiting the spacecraft._

 _But it was okay. These past hours of listening to the crew pilot the spacecraft were exhausting. Thousands of people at NASA spent months working for this exact occasion. Citizens across the nation have put money and support to ensure the landing happened. The whole world was waiting with their breath held to see if America would actually beat the Soviet Union to the moon. Everybody needed some time to relax._

 _As if reading America's mind all the way from the moon, Buzz's voice came on. It wasn't on Mission Control's headset this time, but the public radio._

" _This is the LM pilot. I'd like to take this opportunity to ask every person listening in, whoever and wherever they may be, to pause for a moment and contemplate the events of the past few hours and to give thanks in his or her own way."_

 _And give thanks America did._

 ** _"I'm the Hero!"_**

"-well," America grinned fondly at the memory. "It felt pretty real."

Everybody seemed to accept this as him saying yes and more hands immediately popped up.

Turning his head, America nodded at a kid in an Elvis T-shirt.

"Was James Dean gay?"

America's eyebrows furrowed, "James Dean is the american teenage angst symbol of the 20th century. He was able to make his mark on the world with three movies under age 22 before his death, and you're asking me about his sexuality _fifty years later?_ "

The kid shrugged. "Well, yeah."

"My dad says being gay's a sin," another kid whispered.

"Tim, your dad's a freaking homophobe," some other kid whispered back.

America held his hands up with an easygoing smile, "Hey whoa, it's the 21st century, dudes. We're out here loving who we want to love okay?"

"Say that to Tim's dad."

"Shut up, Mike! At least my dad isn't as racist as yours!"

" _Anyway_ ," America looked back at the kid in the Elvis shirt. "About Jimmy-"

 ** _"I'm the Hero!"_**

" _Whoa! Gotcha!" America caught and held James in front of him in a tango-like position. Once he noticed their close proximity, he felt a sweat come on. He chuckled uneasily, "Hey, lucky you've got a hero like me to save you."_

" _Anything else I can call you?" James cocked his head almost cutely. He was acting like he was enjoying this way too much._

" _My name's Ameri-" the nation caught himself mid-sentence and coughed into his shoulder, careful to not cough on the actor in his arms. (It would've been really embarrassing if he did that). "-fred. Alfred F. Jones."_

 _James wrapped one arm around America's neck to boost himself closer and play with the nation's cowlick._

" _Can I call you Freddy?"_

" _No. Please don't touch my hair."_

" _You can call me Jimmy if I can call you Freddy," James smiled proudly like a kid showing their mom a drawing they made. It was just a nickname but Jame's excited expression was what made it so appealing._

 _Before America could respond, James brought up his hand and smacked America in the face. The nation stepped back while the actor smoothly stood as if nothing happened._

" _What the heck, dude?" America held his jaw._

 _James shrugged, "Got to keep them guessing, you know, Freddy?"_

" _No! I don't know! And please don't call me Freddy!"_

 _Shrugging, James sighed and completely ignored whatever America just said, "Well my manager's probably sent a dog pack to come find me," he began to saunter past America and towards the entrance to the building._

 _America watched the young actor go by, pissed off by his eccentric behavior._ That douche! _he thought._ Just because I look your age doesn't mean I am your age! Bitch! Lasagna! I'm 200 frick-fracking years older than you! Don't smack me!

 _Suddenly, James whirled on his heel like he wanted to mention another thing. He looked America up and down almost shyly before smiling sweetly, "I'll see you around, yeah, Freddy?"_

" _NO," America instantly shouted. "Why are you so bad at picking up on social cues?"_

 _ **"I'm the Hero!"**_

Now that America recalled meeting James, he can sort of see why the kid was asking about his sexuality.

"...that man was definitely a raging bisexual," America ran a hand through his hair. Dang, all it took was that one memory to get the nation all hot and bothered over the actor. Shaking his head, he looked at more kids, "Next?"

He called on a little girl, "My mommy told me that Mr. Trump went to Europe recently."

America grimaced, "That he did."

"What do other countries even do when they meet up?"

"A lot of things, that's for sure," America scratched the back of his neck. "Like…"

 ** _"I'm the Hero!"_**

" _H-hey, not to interrupt," Canada rose his hand cautiously. Everybody turned immediately to face him and he cowered at the attention. Nonetheless, he muttered, "But isn't there a specific number you have to roll for these role playing games?"_

" _Roll what number? To do what?" Prussia raised a brow._

" _Don't you want to kill the cat girl in this game?" Canada cautiously asked._

 _Prussia's brow furrowed and he placed his chin in his palm in contemplation, "Huh. I knew I wanted to beat the thing but I didn't think of killing it."_

 _Japan let out a relieved sigh. He really liked the cat girl, it was the only character so far in this roleplaying game that he liked._

" _But now that I think about it, I do want to kill the thing."_

 _Japan's face fell._

" _Already on it, Prussia dude!" America winked. "In order for you to defeat the cat girl before Japan likely beats the living shit out of you in his next turn, you have to roll at least a…" he dramatically paused to adjust his glasses for the light to reflect off of them. "20."_

 _Prussia's anticipating shoulders slumped, but quickly straightened out. He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips, "Pft. Okay, no big deal for someone as awesome as me."_

 _Japan let out another sigh of relief. There were 21 sides to the dice. There was literally only a 2/21 chance that Prussia could kill his precious cat girl character._

" _Whatever," Germany mumbled. It was obvious in his tone of voice he was already over this. This game was ridiculous. Nobody seemed to be having a genuinely good time except America and Prussia. Made sense. It was because those two have been fucking things up the whole time. However, Germany had to be polite, so he took the dice and handed it to his brother in hopes that his assistance would speed this torture up. "Please hurry."_

" _Ah ah ah," Prussia tsked, wagging his finger. "You can not rush my awesomeness, West."_

" _Yeah, yeah," Germany sighed._

 _Prussia ceremoniously grabbed the dice. He felt it in his palm. Light. Simple. How could one small item hold such meaning in this whole ten-minute campaign? This decides everything important. Will the cat girl die?_ Should _the cat girl die? Wait. This wasn't even a question. The cat girl_ should _die. Everybody agreed on this except Japan._

 ** _"I'm the Hero!"_**

America frowned. Why was this the only memory that popped up when the girl asked about other countries?

"We play roleplaying games," America's mouth slipped.

Everybody cocked their heads in confusion while the nation let out a nervous chuckle.

"Thank you…" America mumbled. "Uh, next!"

The statement had a few kids humming under their breath the Ariana Grande song while everybody's thoughts turned to the "Thank U, Next" meme. Thank god. If there was anything that could distract american kids it was pop culture references or memes.

"Hey, what do you feel about Kavanaugh, Mr. Jones?" A voice, higher than the rest, squeaked.

America's eyes searched through the crowd until they made eye contact with a girl a little too small for her age who had a hand on her hip and a book of social commentary held in the other. She was so ahead of her time it was like her amount of "wokeness" was to make up for the rest of her generation's ignorance.

"Ya know…" America began.

 _ **"I'm the Hero!"**_

 _The radio show host, Paul, paused for a bit, before continuing, "So you're saying that this guy should have a proper_ job _interview before the trial?"_

 _The comment encouraged laughter from the co-host, Jim._

 _America's face reddened and he pulled over to the side of the road. He needed to focus more on his response before he said anything new. He didn't want to embarrass himself on the radio with an uneducated sounding answer. It would make everybody that had the same political views as him sounds stupider than they were. Last thing America needed was more people calling those against Kavanaugh "libtards." (Which was already going to be difficult considering this was a conservative talk show)._

" _No no," America sighed. "This whole trial thing is like a job interview. It's seeing if he's fit for the duty or not-"_

" _But he's certainly qualified for the Supreme Court," Paul intervened._

" _No dude! He is definitely not!"_

" _Dude?!" Jim cackled. "Did you just call him dude? Just how old are you, kid?"_

 _Fuck. America really did just call a guy dude on a political talk show._

 _Before he could make more of a fool of himself, America ignored the question and went straight to it, "If you were to give a job interview for hm, let's see, a teacher. Heck, make it a bus driver. If we were to be interviewing somebody to be a bus driver, would you hire them if they were accused of sexual assault? No."_

" _Okay, but this man is in a high position! It's easy for just anybody in the street to come up and claim that he has sexually assaulted them," Jim groaned._

" _I understand that, but you see-"_

" _No kid, you_ don't _understand," Paul deadpanned. "You're way too young to think you know everything about the world. Damn. That's what I hate about you liberals."_

 _America opened his mouth to intervene but then the line went dead. On the radio, he heard Jim cackle again and ask if there were any more callers up for debate. The nation's mouth went dry and tears threatened to spill over from his eyes. He knew he wasn't completely right, and he knew he didn't sound like a credible guy, but fuck. Nobody should be ignored like that. His opinion should be just as respected as theirs. Why hold a debate with viewers on your station if you're not willing to hear the other side out? Regardless if it was a debate wasn't it just basic human decency to pay attention to what somebody has to say?_

 _It was weird how America was supposed to be the most powerful country in the world but not even a radio show talk host would listen to his opinion._

 _Leaning his head against the wheel of his car he shouted, "Frick!"_

 ** _"I'm the Hero!"_**

The memory left a bitter taste in America's mouth and he struggled to swallow it down. For the umpteenth time that day he shook his head.

"Well, I can't speak for the whole country, and my opinion isn't necessarily right," America shrugged. "But I think the senate made a mistake, and I'm leaving it at that."

The majority of kids had no idea what he really meant by that, but it sounded advanced enough for them to shrug it off as something educated. The kid who asked the question, however, seemed satisfied with the answer. Cool beans.

America glanced at his watch and his heart stopped. It was already 2:45 and he had a flight to New York at 3:15. (He promised Canada that they were going to hang out at Niagara Falls this weekend). As much as he enjoyed answering these kids' questions and going through memory lane, America had to go.

Looking up from his watch, he gave a lopsided smile to the group. "Alright, guys, listen. This was fun, really, but I have to go."

Cue the groans. Some kids, contrastingly, piped up, saying, "thank you for your time!" How polite. That stuff made America smile.

"Wait! Wait! One more question!" A small girl jumped. "Have _you_ made any history yet, Mr. Jones?"

She probably meant nothing offensive by it, but the way she emphasized the "you" made it seem like she expected him to be something important. She probably thought he was a young politician or something. Nonetheless, America was surprised by the question.

It must have been obvious, too, because everybody, including Lindsey, was looking at him curiously. America was taking too long to answer. He forced a smile.

"That's an oddly personal question," America winked teasingly. The small girl's face immediately turned red and the class giggled.

"I'm sorry," she immediately looked down, embarrassment clouding her eyes.

"No no no," America raised his brows. "I'm just playing around."

He gave her a sympathetic look until her shoulders visibly relaxed.

"But as for your question… 'Have I made any history yet…'" America's brows furrowed as the children around him leaned closer in anticipation of his words.

He frantically thought of something to say. He wanted to answer with something that didn't sound like: 'Yes I have made history. In fact, I'm the personification of the very nation which you stand in right now. I've been alive for 200 years. I've survived diseases, depressions, and bombings! I will outlive you all combined!'

So he opted to say, "I may have made a _bit_ of history."

An excited clamor rant about the crowd. Everybody began to raise their hands to ask what he meant. America held up his hands, laughing, and motioning for the children to quiet down.

"It's not that much though," he put his hands in his pockets. "A lot of people might agree, others might not. Yet I definitely want to make more, that's a fact."

Looking among the faces of the children, from the boy with the red cap, the kid with the Elvis shirt, the girl with the book, everybody… No kid looked alike, and he had faith that none of them acted alike either. They were all so, _so_ different with different stories and different families and different thoughts, but they were all _his_ people. These children were the reflection of his future. History depended on them. He didn't say it outright to the tour group, of course, but America knew that he's made plenty of history, and with kids like these he was bound to make more.

 **((A/N: {** _ **PLEASE READ, IT'S REALLY IMPORTANT TO ME IF YOU READ THIS ONE}**_

 **Anyway, so basically, thank you for reading the prologue of my fanfiction for The American Plight! I know I'm really late to the fandom, but recently this year I've been exploring more into history, present day news, and overall this country in general. Upon studying into my country, (if you can't tell what my "country" is at this point, it's the good ol' States), I realized that I love, love, LOVE foreign relations and just the concept of "nations" interacting in general. That, somehow, lead me to Hetalia. And boy, oh boy, things went at a slightly lower angle from there (meaning this was both downhill and uphill for me, but more downhill because I have devoted too many hours of my life to this show).**

 **Of course, being the trash that I am, America immediately became my favorite character. Like I could not help it with this gem, there was so much to admire about this boy. Yeah, he's an asshole the majority of the time but he means well. However, in between my deep studying into American history and current political issues today I realized that Himaruya doesn't really touch into the darker stuff, (of course, this show is meant to be crack). And while I do love Hetalia's light-hearted comedy I thought, "Hey, a look into some angsty past might not hurt from time to time." And even if he were to look into this stuff, it probably wouldn't look into much American stuff, (not that I EXPECT him too, of course, it's a Japanese show, not an American one). So while it was a given that Himaruya would never look into things like slavery or gun control, I still believe that the concept of delving into these matters is really important! And I, an intellectual, have decided that there is no better way for me to reach out to the audience of the Internet on American political and historical issues than with the power of God and anime on my side.**

 **Okay, jk.**

 **WHAT THIS FANFICTION IS:**

 **Contrary to the second to last paragraph I just wrote, this fanfiction won't be primarily ANGST and CONTROVERSIAL ISSUESSSS. I'm going to try my best to retell historical events, discuss current politics, and experience large cultural aspects of America with the humor that Hetalia would if they were to dive more into America than just revolutionary war and hamburgers. THIS MEANS the way that I write about some tragic events may come off as really, really, REALLY offensive, and I do apologize in advance. The more serious an issue is, however, the less lightly I'll take it, but with each chapter I do I'm going to try my best to make it at least reminiscent of the show's dynamics, if that makes sense. (So no chapter will be COMPLETE angst. The angstiest it'll ever get is like the one Davie episode, and that'll only be once in a blue moon). There are also going to be random chapters of America experiencing his own culture/introducing it to other countries, because idk I feel he would be a cutie who would do touristy/local stuff in his free time. (Character interactions will be specified more under CANON/FANON DYNAMICS). To get a better sense of what I'm trying to say, you can re-read the mini "flashbacks" America had when talking to the tour group in this intro, because all of these are excerpts of chapters to come!**

 **CHAPTERS:**

 **On the topic of chapters, each chapter is going to be a one-shot, (unless I say it's a two-part or three-part or so on), but they all happen in the same universe aka same variation I have of the canonverse. I would like to SAY that it's basically like normal fanfic chapters, but I can't really because NOTHING HAPPENS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER. One chapter will be talking about the Space Race and the next will probably be about Susan B. Anthony. It'll be kind of like the show and how they jump back and forth from storyline to storyline every episode, but it all happened in the same universe.**

 **POLITICS:**

 **On an another important note, my view on politics can be described as liberal. I'm a second generation american born, bisexual brown girl. It is only natural that I am going to have very strong opinions about the rights of minorities, and this is likely going to be reflected in my writing when I bring up political topics. If you're not into that, (I respect your opinion), then you will still be able to read this fanfiction, as you can just skip the chapters that do contain anything political because it'll say something about the controversial issue of the chapter within the first sentence. (This is presuming the chapter contains any politics in the first place).**

 **CANON/FANON DYNAMICS:**

 **Moving on, if it wasn't already obvious, this is an American-centric fanfiction that's going to revolve around his experiences as a young, scrappy, and hungry country (uehuehue). There's also going to be random bits of me writing out scenarios that I feel could actually happen in the show, (these will also have America in all of them). And because it IS fanfiction, I am going to develop my own headcanons, however I'm going to try to make it as accurate to the show's characterization and world events as possible, alrightea? I also want to establish my interpretation of his relationship with each country he WOULD have a relationship with, so there will be chapters solely dedicated to his relationships with characters he doesn't interact with often or at all in the show, (i.e. the Italian brothers, Belarus, Korea, etc. etc.). I also want to make my own fanon characters like the Philippines, Mexico, and probably even North Korea because I feel like if Hetalia were an America-centric show, (at least, more than it already is, because let's be real: Himaruya loves his boi Alfred), the first two would play at LEAST a major supporting role if not a main role. On the other hand, characters like Britain, Canada, and Japan are going to show up a lot, (because they're the closest with America), and therefore don't need their own separate chapters in order for me to establish what kind of relationship they have in this fanfiction's universe. ALSO, the majority of how the plot of this fanfic is made and written out is LARGELY based on the dubbed version of the anime, therefore, England will be referred to as Britain in order for me to hear their voices properly in my head when I write, (that sounded a lot less creepy before I wrote it out).**

 **AS FOR SHIPS, I'll probably mention some? Like Gerita, Prucan (maybe), Spamano, Aushun, Dennor, THE LIST GOES ON, but it's not really going to be like "AND THEN ITALY GRABBED GERMANY'S COLLAR AND MADE OUT BEFORE THEY FUCKED ENDLESSLY." No, it'll be small things like America noticing that Person A makes Person B blush, because this is an APH America fanfic, so if something happens it has to be through America's eyes. As for our golden boy, he's going to have multiple love interests because this is his history, but as of current day he'll be interested in only one person because his past love interests/crushes will all be human and probably dead (lol). His main love interest in the present storyline will be Britain, but like mentioned before, because there are so many flashbacks there's gonna be other people he was romantically linked with. This brings me to an important point.** **USUK IS NOT THE MAIN POINT OF THIS FANFICTION** **. I WANT EVERYBODY TO BE ABLE TO READ THIS, WHETHER YOU SHIP AMERIPAN OR FRUK OR WHATEVER. That being said, and please hear me out, there will be usuk. (I know that negates what I just said but seriously, hear me out). I will mark every chapter as [USUK] that is going to contain anything slightly romantic between the two, so if usuk isn't your jazz you can just skip to the next chapter. You won't miss anything important, the chapters that ARE going to be marked as usuk will not have any historical or political value and it's mostly just filler material of those blonde homosexuals being, well, homosexual. Interactions between America and Britain outside of the chapters not marked usuk will be STRICTLY platonic, (if it ever gets iffy for some of ya non-shippers, just read their interactions as brotherly instead of romantic, I guess).**

 **CONCLUSION:**

 **Anyway, WHOO this was a long Author's Note and if you stayed until this long I'm super dooper impressed and can already tell that you're a really patient and kind person. :) It really does mean a lot to me that you took the time to come all the way down here and listen to what I have to say and honestly you're amazing. This is my first fanfiction I'm going to publish to the Internet and the fact that you're even viewing it matters a boat load. I do accept constructive criticism, but I will warn you I'm quite a crybaby so please be nice. ,) I think that's about it, for now, agh. I feel like I have to shower you in more gratefulness but then you'd have to read more and I already made you read enough. Once again, thank you for giving this fanfiction a chance and please enjoy the adventures of my boi: Alfred F. Jones!))**


	2. 1 America Joins the War

Hawaii rested a decent distance from the rest of the states, but it was close enough to be considered American territory. So with the islands being a part of him, America decided to visit Hawaii. The island of Oahu, specifically, and _damn_ was it nice.

America's never been to an island before so he wasn't really a tropical person. He was used to a variety of non-extreme seasons. In fact, no part of him before was ever considered a tropical island, (if you're not considering the Philippines, but the Philippines was his own independent-ass person who just happened to be America's territory at the time). However, laying on a towel over the nice ocean breeze and earning a gorgeous tan, America couldn't help but think about how he should've had an island vacation sooner.

He sat up and (highkey) checked himself out. Although he didn't want to, he spent way too much time in the northeast. Of course, the northeast area was practically his hometown, (a really large hometown), but it took a toll on his ability to grow accustomed to "island life." He wasn't used to dressing so bare like this, nor was he used to wearing shades instead of glasses. To prove the point, America spent every five minutes to double check that

1\. It was not nighttime. His glasses were just tinted so that everything appeared dark. And-

2\. His swimming trunks decorated with the American flag were not somehow stolen by a crab.

Noting that, his trunks were still on and it was bright outside, he sighed with relief and laid back onto his towel.

 _I could get used to this_... he peacefully thought, staring at the cloudless sky. However, this was soon disturbed as a shadowy figure loomed over him, blocking the sunlight.

America blinked to adjust from the sudden change in brightness. He thought the figure would be courteous enough to leave eventually, but the figure didn't. Instead, the figure stayed, continuing to block the sun. Rude. The nation groaned and sat up, taking off his shades.

"Hey dude," America rubbed at his eyes, trying to readjust to the unfiltered sunlight. "I don't know if you noticed, but…" he peeked at the figure only to see an older man in a suit.

Judging from the greasy hair and the overly priced tie, it was probably an American government official. Groaning mentally, America ran a hand through his hair and faked a grin.

"Oops, my bad," he got on his knees. "What's up?"

The silent man handed him an envelope before walking away. The nation took it and watched the other man stumble in the sand as he drifted away. He was literally wearing a suit. On the beach. America wondered if the guy was just pretending everything was fine as long as he was in that suit, or if he was simply too ignorant to be affected by the sweltering heat and potential threat of sandy socks. America guessed it was his fault for allowing guys like that to be in power; he probably shouldn't wonder about their questionable decisions unless he wanted a headache.

His attention focused on the envelope in his hands and he flipped it over. It was plain white with no marks or bends, indicating it was handled with a certain level of carefulness. There was no sending or return address, and everything about this seemed extremely sketchy.

Sighing, he opened it.

 **oO"I'm the Hero!"Oo**

The letter was literally frozen when he opened up the envelope. By the laws of physics, it made no sense, but then again this is a fanfiction based on an anime so it actually made perfect sense. As soon as the letter felt the heat from the Hawaii sun, however, it began to melt to America's shock. The letter underneath remained perfectly fine, which by the laws of physics still made no sense, but this point was already reviewed over.

 _Привет!_ The letter started out graciously.

America looked at the foreign greeting closely. Then he screeched. _Привет = Russia._

 _Russia = Communism._

 _Communism = The nations are all one._

 _The nations are all one = **NO INDEPENDENCE.**_

"Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope," America chanted to himself, folding the corners of the paper. "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope…"

Eventually, he finished folding, and took a break to admire his work. Instead of the basic paper airplane, America had made a mini Apollo 11.

 _Not historically accurate at the moment, but…_ America thought, grinning mischievously at the paper spaceship before aiming it towards the ocean. If he sent it far enough, it might get to Russia, or better yet, the moon.

"This…" America dug his back foot in the ground. He grasped the spaceship tightly in his fingertips, and leaned all his weight back before shooting the space ship forward. "IS FOR DEMOCRACY, BIOTCH!"

The spaceship flew from his fingers and sailed in the air, parallel to the ocean. America stood up properly and placed his hands on his hips. He smirked, thinking, _Ought to teach that communist trash a lesson._

"That was probably an important note," a voice nearby him said.

America turned to look at a little girl standing next to him, staring at him with sweet eyes. What was shocking was she didn't look in awe at all, especially considering not only did he throw the paper plane so far, but he also managed to fold said paper plane to look exactly like a jet that didn't exist yet. What troubled America more was that she didn't berate him for littering. Weren't the good children of this world supposed to be anti-littering angels or something?

"Because," she lowered her eyes and looked around as if there were spies that could be listening. She whispered, "A guy with a tie gave it to you."

America frowned, "You're right."

Guys in ties meant business.

"Do you know what the note was about?" the little girl asked.

"I have a good feeling."

"What is it?"

"It's probably Ru…" he was about to say the other country's name, but stopped mid-sentence. The girl looked up at him with expectant eyes. He can't really tell the truth; nation personifications were supposed to be a secret. He needed to fix his phrasing or else he was in trouble.

He kneeled down and her eyes followed the motion. America, with a flick of his finger, gestured for her to come closer. She blinked out of confusion, but complied. America gave a kind smile.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this, but..." He began to whisper, "I'm a secret agent that works for the government."

The girl gasped.

"...and these guys are trying to make our nation save them in the war," he grinned arrogantly. "Because they know our nation's the best."

The girl nodded eagerly to agree with the statement. Good. America liked this girl. "I don't know much about the war, but I'm sure our nation would do anything to help its friends, right?"

America felt the small smile on his face broaden into a bright beam. He chuckled and ruffled the girl's hair. "Yeah, no."

Any hope that was clearly visible in the girl's eyes completely vanished.

"Let me tell you one thing, kid," America glanced at the ocean. There was a huge wave in the distance hurling itself in their direction. He got up and began packing his stuff in his beach bag. "If you see a bunch of people fighting, just walk the other direction."

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a finger.

"Nope!" He shushed. "Even if they're your friends."

He slung his beach bag over his shoulder, walking a good ten feet from the girl as the large oncoming wave was approaching closer.

"B-but why?" He heard her stutter behind him.

America looked over his shoulder to pretend like he was looking at the girl when was really staring at the _huge_ wave behind her. A good person would've warned her about the wave, but truth be told, the moment she talked about joining the war, America became immediately annoyed with her. So he opted to give a playful wink instead, "Because it's none of ya beeswax."

Then the wave hit the girl head on.

 **oO"I'm the hero!"Oo**

China, Russia, and Britain all sat at the allies' meeting room. France was still in captivity. In most episodes of the anime, France was there to show up for all the meetings, but was under Germany's control in others. It made no sense. The writers of the show and of this fanfic decided not to question it as long as the audience didn't.

In one way or another, all three of them looked dead. China had dark circles under his eyes and bruises everywhere. His neck was in a brace and despite his lean figure, he was slumping at such an undesirable angle that Britain felt uncomfortable looking at him for longer than he had to. Britain himself was in a worse state. He suffered so many blitzkriegs that his left arm was broken, his head was covered in gauze, and everything from his hips up to his chest were wrapped in bandages under his uniform. Russia, however, was the worst of them all. He had a black eye, a broken leg, and bandages in places not visible to the public. Not to mention all the burn marks. Yet, he remained the only one without an injury straight to the head.

"I don't know, Britain," Russia furrowed his brows. "America doesn't really like me. What makes you think he hasn't thrown the letter out by now?"

Truth be told, Britain didn't really know. His boss, Churchill, kept pestering him about getting America to help out in the war, and there was _no way in hell_ that Britain was going to ask America himself. It was humiliating enough having the other join the First World War, even if it was just their leaders interacting rather than themselves.

"I'm sure he would've analyzed it well enough," Britain sighed. "He's not _completely_ incompetent as a nation."

"Alright, whatever you say…" Russia still looked worried, but Britain made no move to comment on it.

China suddenly stood up, pushing his chair away, "Do you guys hear that?"

Whistling. The sound was quiet but slowly grew louder, as if the source of the sound was rushing closer with every second. Britain reached under the flaps of his coat to grab a gun. Noticing the tense atmosphere, China grabbed his wok and Russia balled his fists, ready to attack.

Neither of them were prepared for what happened next.

A white figure crashed through one of the windows and flew right at Russia, successfully smacking him down to the floor.

Britain and China shrieked and ran up to the other nation. He was flat on his face while the white figure that hit him remained sticking up out of his head like a large zit. China picked up the figure carefully, examining it.

"It- it's a jet!" He handed it to Britain. "It's made out of paper!"

Britain looked over the paper jet with confusion, "How curious…"

The jet was folded precisely enough to the point where each feature was distinct, from the windows to the American flag on the side, to the- wait. Britain looked back to where he had simply scanned over. Somehow, _some fucking how_ , there was an American flag folded into the plane in perfect detail. Britain squinted his eyes. Yup, it even had the correct amount of stars.

He felt his blood boil, and slowly, he began to unfold the jet. It was difficult to not damage the paper considering how much work was put into the folding, but he managed to salvage just enough of the note. When he read over the paper, he shouted and slammed it to the floor out of frustration.

"Stupid git!" He barked at the letter.

China rolled his eyes at the Brit. White people were dramatic, sure, he knew that. But Britain was the epitome of dramatic. Once, the guy asked China if he wanted to trade. Of course, China didn't need anybody, so he said fuck no. Then Britain got all sensitive and illegally sold drugs to all of China's people, making everybody too high to function. "What the hell is up your ass today, you colonizer?"

"It's the letter Russia made for America, asking him to join the war," Britain hissed. "He just made it into a jet and hit Russia back with it."

China gasped, sounding almost offended, "America uses things that aren't made by me?"

Russia moved his head from the ground so he was able to speak. "Oh, wonderful."

China and Britain both looked at the other uneasily. They felt the malice practically fuming off of Russia, despite the cold nation's kind smile.

"I'll remember this when I break his back," he chuckled.

China got up cautiously. "You know…" he scratched the back of his head. "I don't even think he said yes to helping us out in the war!"

Britain groaned and hid his face in his hands.

 **oO"I'm the Hero!"Oo**

The wooden deck was decorated with tikis and other carved items to either appeal to tourists or show the authenticity of the place. America wasn't really sure what the difference was at this point. He decided not to question it, though, since the hotel was generous as was to offer free hula lessons. Decoration shouldn't matter.

America hummed happily to himself as he shook his hips slightly, the grass skirt following the movement.

"Like this?" He smiled charmingly at the woman next to him teaching the lesson.

She was staring down at his hips a little too obviously, but upon being spoken to, her head shot up. "Oh! Y-yes!" Her face grew pink, "Sorry. I don't know why I'm so out of it today."

America smiled, also growing pink, "Aw shucks, it's alright."

He cringed at himself, _Aw shucks? What the heck, dude…_

America liked to think he was the hero, but whenever it came to any form of romance, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Like yeah, he knew he was good looking, (or at least he _hoped_ he was), and he generally knew how to get along with people, but…

There was something about this particular girl that made him feel flustered, and he was maybe like 95%, (actually, 80, no 60, no wait, _20%_ , final answer), sure that she felt the same way. She had this pretty and genuine smile, and her eyes were big and round and wow, America didn't even realize he was beaming like an idiot until she began talking again.

"No, really. I don't want to make you fe-"

Suddenly, a panda bursted out from under the desk, roaring furiously.

The screams surrounding caught their attention and they both turned to take in the situation. The girl's face paled, and America silently triumphed in his head. Had their interactions continued any further, then she would've realized that he literally had no idea how to flirt. Then, like everybody else he took interest to these past centuries, she would've taken this as him being simply uninterested in her and she would've continued on with the lesson like normal. But being the _hero_? Getting to save the day and maybe make a good impression on potential love interests? That's something America could do.

He grinned with a sudden burst of confidence. America put his hand protectively over the girl, shielding her away from the bear, "Awesome! A panda from hell is exactly what I needed!"

"WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!" the girl screamed.

"Stand back, Miss," he turned around and winked at her. "The hero is at work."

He leaped towards the panda. The bear, taking notice of the figure that flew nearby him, turned quickly. America bent his knees and positioned himself, ready to punch. The panda looked at America up and down, a look of recognition in its expression.

Both of their eyes narrowed. America's fists clenched. The bear bent its hind legs, ready to lunge forward. Without a moment's waste, the bear jumped towards America. The latter put his forearms up to block his face and turned his head to the side, preparing for impact. But nothing came after.

There was no colliding, no broken bones, and no cries of horror. There wasn't even a single piece of fur touching America. All that America felt was the thick anticipation of the bear attacking him, but _no actual bear attacking him._

Cautiously, he turned to look in front of him. His forearms blocked the view of the panda's face but he knew it was there because his peripheral vision granted the sight of the rest of the panda's body. Putting his forearms down, he noticed the panda was staring right at him. Its head was cocked curiously. It was almost… cute.

"Wh-" America didn't finish because the panda leaned forward and snuggled his neck. He stiffened, but once he realized this panda didn't seem to mean any harm, he laughed. "Alright! Alright!"

He wrapped his arms around the panda's neck, chuckling. _What a cutie…_

America backed away, smile still plastered on his face, "Alright, big guy, last time I checked, the San Diego Zoo is back in Cali, so there's something _wild_ going on here."

He winked at the panda but the panda was not nearly as amused.

Sighing, he searched the bear for any sign of ownership. A brand? No. What kind of fucked up person would brand a panda? Maybe he had little panda booties on that had the owner's name. No, if the panda was wearing boots, America would've definitely noticed that first. Sighing, he was about to give up when he noticed something around the panda's neck.

"A collar!" America gasped.

 _Dang dude…_ he thought to himself. _How did you not think of checking for a collar first?_

Well there was a reason the United States wasn't the country of detectives.

He approached the panda with a calm hand. He didn't want to frighten the poor thing he he had to travel all the way from potentially _California_ (because where else in the world do pandas come from) to be here. America grasped the tag and read over it.

"If lost…" he subconsciously read aloud. "Please return to Yao Wang…"

America threw his head back in thought. The name Yao Wang was awfully familiar. He flipped through scenes in his head, trying to associate a face with the name. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

"China! That's China's human name!"

Upon calling out "China" the panda turned and snuggled its nose into the crook of America's shoulder.

"Alright, alright," America chuckled. He put his hands on either side of the panda's face. "So he's your owner, huh?" His eyebrows furrowed. If China owned this panda, then why was it all the way in Hawaii? "Hey, can you tell me why you were sent here, big guy?"

The panda stared blankly before opening its mouth. Out of its mouth dropped a scroll, covered in saliva. America stared at the roll in grotesque, and eventually sighed. He leaned forward and cringed all the way down to his toes when his hand made contact with the slick, slimy paper.

"This better be good…"

 **oO"I'm the Hero!"Oo**

"America's okay and all," China said, a day after the _incident_. And by incident, it meant when a paper jet was thrown at them not only strong enough to burst through a window, but strong enough to literally knock Russia out of his chair. Only America could do such a thing. "But he and I aren't that close either. He might like the panda but he won't say yes to _me_ asking him to join war."

"Nonsense, China," Britain waved his hand. "I'm sure he would jump on any chance to play the hero."

"That's true," Russia nodded, gleefully. Britain grimaced upon looking at the bandage wrapped on his head. "It's quite annoying."

Yesterday, after everything settled down they realized that Russia actually needed a large band-aid for where he was hit. Before, he was the only one without a head injury, despite Germany attacking him so brutally and out of nowhere. How he got so hurt from a paper jet? Britain didn't know. It wasn't surprising though, America was known for his intense strength.

"Yeah, now that I think about it…" China put his chin on his hands, thinking. "He usually meddles in other people's business. What changed?"

 **Fun Fact: Actually, before WWII, America was known for wanting nothing to do with others' businesses. The only times the American government allowed itself to interact with other nations were for trade or land.**

Britain knew the truth. He knew America was the nosiest nation alive, ever since he was a kid, but what good could he do if his government didn't want to do anything? Britain sighed and poured himself a cup of tea, "Who cares? We just need the idiot to help now, so why question his lack of motive?"

He shrugged, and raised the cup to his lips. End of conversation.

"You seem bitter," China wistfully said. "It's hard to see someone you raise benefit without you."

Britain choked on his tea. He slammed the cup down and felt the liquid begin to come out of his nose.

"Oh no," Russia hummed nonchalantly. "It appears Britain is choking."

Britain struggled for five more seconds until he felt the strangling feeling subside. Wiping at his nose, he cleared his throat before glaring at China.

"If it makes you feel better," China chuckled behind his hand. "At least he's willing to fight for you."

" _Fight for me_?" Britain hissed, his eyes narrowing. "He hasn't done a thing since '39 and the only reason he's been supplying me anything is because of Roosevelt." He crossed his arms, feeling his face heat up from frustration. "What do _you_ know, China?"

Despite the strained atmosphere, Russia joyfully smiled, "Hey, didn't China raise Japan the way you did America?" Unsurprisingly, this comment only added to the high tension.

"Yes," China's face fell for a moment before he looked at Britain with a straight face. There was nothing but melancholy in his tone. "So please, Britain, don't complain. America would never do anything to hurt you."

Before Britain could reply, a _Caw!_ sounded in the distance.

They all glanced fearfully to look at the windows. The last time they heard a sound from the distance, a jet crashed violently through glass and hit one of them.

Once more, Britain reached under the flaps of his coat to grab a gun. China grabbed his wok and Russia balled his fists, ready to attack.

Suddenly, something burst through the window where the jet burst through yesterday. There were wooden boards nailed there, blocking where the jet had crashed through. Yet, _somehow_ , whatever flew through just now had enough strength to burst through five inch thick boards.

In a flurry of brown and white feathers the bird attacked China.

"What the f-" China couldn't even finish his sentence before he was brutally mauled by the bird. He let out a shriek of pure horror as he fell over.

Britain and Russia stared as the scene unfolded. They didn't even know what they _could_ do. China was running back and forth, screeching as the figure kept pecking at him. From what the two could see, it was definitely a bird, but _why?_

"SOMEONE DO SOMETHING," China wailed. "STOP STARING."

Seeming to shake out of it, Britain tightened his grip on the gun and aimed it at the bird.

 _Hopefully, this doesn't go wrong…_ he thought, shutting one eye to get a more accurate shot. His hand shook but when he thought he got a stable eye on the target, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet sailed and hit the bird in the wing, successfully getting it off of China.

Somewhere in the distance, far away from the meeting room, America bent over gasping.

A government official rushed to his side, "Sir, are you okay?"

America turned to look at the official in distress, "Somewhere in this world, a redcoat has _threatened my freedom_."

The government official's brows furrowed in confusion.

However, back in the meeting room, China was recovering from the attack.

"Britain, that was amazing!" Russia cheered.

"HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT WASN'T GOING TO HIT ME YOU ASS," China screeched.

Britain scoffed, putting his gun back in his coat, "I used to be a pirate, remember? I know how to use a gun."

Lies. Yeah he was once a pirate and yeah he knew how to use a gun, but he didn't _really_ think that he would've missed China. Yes, it would've been preferable, but… Britain kind of just pointed the gun and hoped for the best. He was sure there was an alternate timeline where China was still running with a bird on his head while bleeding from a bullet wound, courtesy of Britain. But hey! What really mattered is that it wasn't _this_ timeline.

"We all know how to use gun. We are in war," China's eyes lowered. "Bitch, you're not special."

Britain didn't really know what to say to that at the time, so all he could do was shrug.

Meanwhile, Russia examined the bird resting against the wall. Only its wing was damaged. It did seem tired enough, however, to not back away when the nation approached.

"I-it's wearing shades," Russia noted.

"What?" Britain raised a brow.

"It's a bald eagle… wearing shades," Russia deadpanned.

The three countries gathered to stare at the bird only to realize that, indeed, it was a bald eagle wearing shades.

"Wait… there's a note nearby its claws!" China tiptoed nearby the bird, scared to be attacked again. He shot forward quickly and ran at least ten feet away from the bird before looking at the note. It was a post-it. "'Hey China!'" The note read. "'Thanks for the panda! I'll give you a symbol of my country in return. Also, no, I don't want to join the war.'"

Upon hearing the words of the note, Britain screeched in frustration. He frantically searched for an object to throw, but he couldn't find anything, so he settled with throwing himself, (to the ground).

"THAT BASTARD I CAN'T BELIE-"

 **oO"I'm the Hero!"Oo**

The Ko'olau mountains were unbelievably gorgeous. Yeah, there were mountains back at the mainland, but for some reason they just weren't as pretty. The few places that had the same amount of sunlight reflecting off the mountains back there were _certainly_ not as green or luscious as the mountains here. And there were a handful of beautiful green trees elsewhere, but none were surrounded by such beautiful ranges.

Heck, it was so beautiful, America could barely focus on the golf ball he was driving forward. He swung mindlessly, not realizing that he already hit the ball three swings ago.

"Sir…" an unfamiliar sounding man grunted behind him.

"Hm," he nodded, still staring at the mountain range. "I'm listening, don't worry."

 _Not really._

The man said something but America was too snatched by the sight before him. He sighed, setting down his club and turning to look at the stranger. The guy was staring impatiently, and America assumed it was because he was waiting for an answer.

The nation grinned guiltily, "Sorry, can you repeat that again?"

They man opened his mouth once more but was interrupted by the sound of a ringing telephone, and America yelped, shocked.

"Wait, there's no telephone wires he-"

The ring happened again, and America realized it was coming from the guy who stood before him. He furrowed his brows. _Peter Clark_ , the guy's name tag read. He was a government employee, for sure, but America wasn't familiar enough with him to name why he was here. Judging from the way Peter held himself, (he looked utterly confused and frustrated), he was probably with foreign relations.

Peter sighed, and pulled out an iPhone from his pocket. He shoved it into America's face.

"What th-" America swiped the phone away from his eyes. "Dude, it's the 1940s though, isn't it?"

Peter shrugged.

America stared blankly. He didn't know that it was so easy to incorporate modern technology during the 40s. He was going to keep that in mind. Maybe he could use Google in the near future.

Peter looked at him expectantly, making America realize the phone was still ringing. He looked down, surprised the item was still there. Grinning sheepishly, he answered the call.

"Hi, this is the United St-"

"JOIN THE WAR," France screeched into the telephone, interrupting whatever professional telephone greeting America had in mind.

"France?!" America grasped onto his phone tightly. Despite trying to isolate himself, America knew well about how France was currently under Germany's control. The two have always been close, ever since the American Revolution. It was only inevitable that the younger was worried when he heard what happened. "Dude! Are you okay?"

"If you're truly concerned then you should join the war!" France hissed on the other end.

"Hm. No thanks."

America heard this a thousand times before. From calls from his boss to suggestive comments from generals, it was almost like America was _expected_ to be part of the war despite his isolation. Normally, he'd pause and pretend to think about it, (you know, for dramatic effect), but he was _golfing_ , man. And like the rich white dude he was, he wanted to golf at a private reserve on a tropical island _in peace_.

" _America_ ," France growled. America guessed he was trying to sound stern but he just came off as a dominant male prostitute. Not that he knew what that sounded like. America was straight. Definitely.

Yeah.

Anyway, America groaned and buried his face in his free hand. He would join the war, he really would. But too many of his citizens supported isolationism, and as of right now nobody in the Axis Powers posed as a threat to him. Japan has been a bit iffy in some places, (the two's relationship worsened ever since the 20th century began), but the dude wasn't dumb enough to punch America when he was well known to be the strongest guy in the world. Not to mention, America _did not_ like the concept of having to team up with Russia, (cOmMuNiSt TrAsH), even if it meant being on China, France or even _Britain's_ side.

The thought made America stop cold. _Britain…_

A sad sigh escaped his lips unknowingly. And then there was Britain. They weren't on bad terms or anything, in fact, the trade between the two was probably the most important economic relationship America had at the time. Plus, he's been sending the limey weapons since practically the beginning of this damn war! But… that was professional. If America joined the war he would have to become really close allies with Britain, and this war was too large and costly for America to _not_ avoid the other again unlike how he did in the First World War. Professional interactions were fine, but being allies meant being friends again, and they hadn't been friends for a long time.

America's thoughts were interrupted by a heavily accented, (and seductive) "PLEASE" from the other line.

The younger nation jolted at the sound of France's voice. He forgot the other was still there. He began to feel guilty, knowing France was locked up by Germany, likely starving or being tortured. It was awful that he was targeted since the beginning just because he was doing what was right: opposing Germany invading Poland. America saw what was happening and did nothing. Just like that, he wasn't the victim of anything. Yeah, his citizens were safe, but at what cost? It was only a matter of time before all of Europe fell to the Axis Powers and their spreading influence.

But it didn't matter. America couldn't do a thing unless his people agreed.

"...no."

France was silent for a while. America patiently waited on an answer. The sun was hot on his back, but there was a gentle breeze in the air. There was the sound of ocean crashing into the land from a distance, but this was mostly drowned out by the calls of the native island birds. America felt his own heart rate calm down from his surroundings.

"America," France began, much more calmly than he would've at the beginning of the conversation. It was unnerving. "I know you favor the safety and well-being of your people, everybody does. It's who we are as countries. But… The Allies need you. And even though he hasn't said it, Britain does too."

Then France hung up.

 **oO"I'm the Hero!"Oo**

Japan looked over the island calmly. Or at least, it seemed like he looked over the island calmly. Anticipation was quickly building in his throat. Not the good kind, either. Yet, he was sure this was the right decision. Britain would be a goner by now if it hadn't been for America's choice to supply him with weapons. Plus, America and Japan haven't been as close as they used to since the turn of the 20th century. And it wasn't like they hadn't tried talking it out.

 **Fun Fact: Before Pearl Harbor, the two nations had many, many, many negotiation attempts, (despite where their obvious bias fell). There were a lot of reasons as to why these attempts never proved successful; Japan was part of the axis powers, refused to leave mainland China, and wanted to take over a majority of southeast asia.**

Despite America claiming he was "neutral", the younger had the audacity to cut off any supply that may have helped Japan in the war. _All while sending the allies resources_. And America had more than enough to share. The fool might as well have just joined.

Not to mention, but any action Japan took that was south of his place, he had to be weary of the Philippines. Philippines was directly below him, so if Japan really were to take the southeast he'd have to go through him, first. That wasn't the difficult part. The other was still a new country that depended greatly on his neighbors and allies. The difficult part was that if Japan were to lay a finger on the Philippines, America would _definitely_ step in, (he was his territory, after all).

And now that Japan was friends with Italy and Germany, he didn't have to worry that much. Japan could attack the nation from the Pacific while Italy and Germany could attack him from the Atlantic. He was sure that if he got in a war with America, he wouldn't be fighting him alone.

 _This isn't a mistake, Japan,_ he assured himself once more.

The pilot to his left tapped his shoulder and pointed to his headphones, taking Japan out of his thoughts. He was obviously hinting that there was a message for him in the speaker. Nodding, Japan switched his headphones on. It was a call through the radio, from Germany.

"THIS IS A MISTAKE, JAPAN."

"Wh-what?" Japan mumbled.

"JAPAN, IF YOU BOMB AMERICA, THEN AMERICA IS GOING TO JOIN THE WAR," Germany barker.

"But," Japan felt his eyebrows knit. "He was useless throughout the First World War."

A large sigh was heard on the other line, "I can not deny that statement, but think about what you're getting yourself into. America has gotten much stronger since then."

Japan contained a snort, "I do not mean to be rude, but I disagree. America just recovered from a depression."

"Yes and in that time his boss has whipped him in shape ready for war!"

 **Fun Fact: Legit, everybody was not into joining the war. Yet, Roosevelt felt that it was only a matter of time until the U.S. was sucked into the conflict, so he readied weapons and supplies while training many soldiers extensively. Despite the initial shock of Pearl Harbor, the military was well-prepared, almost _too well-prepared_.**

"Japan, if America joins the war…" Germany continued.

"You're so sure that he will join the war," Japan mused. "But he has refused up until now to do so. He boasts about democracy but did not do anything when your boss began spreading fascism. He's only watched by the side idly as I've been taking land from China. He didn't even lift a single finger when his good friend France was taken by us, or even when you attacked his dear caretaker, except to send over some weapons."

Germany stayed silent.

"He's not going to do anything," Japan assured.

More silence. Japan was just about to take off his headphones, believing that Germany got disconnected, when the other shouted very suddenly.

"THIS IS STILL STUPID."

The pilot began approaching the island under and Japan sighed. Germany was continuing to lecture him on how they would get to attack America later on, (when they were more powerful), but Japan wasn't listening. He turned down the speaker and looked at the base below him.

"I'll teach this fatbutt…"

 **oO"I'm the Hero!"Oo**

America literally had no idea what was coming. The dude was chilling. Like, as in, "going in and out off beach shops with ice cream in one hand while making the shaka sign in the other, telling fellow bros that life was good" chilling.

He looked around as he exited another gift shop. Despite the tragic things going on in the world right now, he _literally could not bring himself to care_. His interaction with France the other day went right over his head. Right now, America was where America was, and Europe was where Europe was. And, like his 5th boss would say, _fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck Europe._

 **Fun Fact: One of the most famous actions the fifth U.S. president, James Monroe, has ever taken during his time in office was the making of the Monroe Doctrine. This document basically told Europe that the U.S. was gonna stay out of its business, and that they should stop colonizing the Americas because it was annoying**.

Compared to being part of a war that _wasn't even his problem_ , (as he had to keep telling himself), America would rather be doing what he was doing right now. Sightseeing in Hawaii. It was literally December and the place was hot and humid and sunny and everything heavenly. There were a bunch of boutiques and family owned businesses that contained friendly locals that you could talk with for hours. He tanned pretty nicely, too, so it looked like he actually belonged there. (You could say that he looked like he belonged anywhere in the U.S. but he was really _feeling_ this place).

The only thing that stood out about him at the moment was that he was dressed in his navy uniform. The medals on his chest brandished not only his long time serving the country, (as in serving himself for _160 damn years long_ ), but his high status as a general and a nation. At the time, he just finished checking that the development of the base in Pearl Harbor was doing well. Of course, while he was not at war it was good to prepare.

 **Fun Fact: Before America even joined the war, Roosevelt moved the majority of American navy to Pearl Harbor in Hawaii to prepare for a potential conflict with Japan.**

The multiple problems that the naval placement in Hawaii would cause did not go overlooked. The action could've been viewed as an unofficial declaration of war on his part, but there should be nothing wrong with getting ready. America still felt restless, anyway. If you asked him why, he wouldn't be able to name a reason. He would just shrug and say that he was uneasy.

So, he was genuinely surprised to encounter Japan as he was walking out of the 23rd gift shop he visited that day.

Japan.

In Hawaii.

Nearby a harbor.

A harbor that contained a _fuck ton of America's naval power._

"Japan!" America flinched and tried to grab his gun. At this point, formalities didn't really exist. They both knew why the older was here.

Japan was too quick. He lunged forward, shouting something apologetically in Japanese.

America barely dodged, hitting the gift shop door face first.

Smooth.

Japan also clumsily stumbled after missing. America, on the other hand, was backing away from the door and holding his nose in pain. But it was only a matter of time before he turned and saw Japan recovering and trying to hit him again.

America ducked, but since Japan was shorter than him, he had to practically drop to the floor in order to avoid the attack. On the ground, his eyes made contact with one of Japan's legs.

He furrowed his brows and yanked Japan's left ankle, (gently, of course), successfully tripping the other to the ground. Japan let out an "Oof" and America, with common sense, decided now was the chance.

He gripped the concrete floor and struggled to push himself up. It has been a while since he got in a fight. Finally, he managed to get on his feet and he just began to dash for a millisecond before Japan tripped him.

America landed on his chest, hard. He felt all the wind knock out of him and he stayed for half a moment. He contemplated giving up, but when he heard Japan grunt and the other's shadow loom over him, he rolled onto his back, preparing to fight more.

Japan was looking down at him, katana already unsheathed.

"America-san," he held up his katana above him before bringing it down onto America's right hand.

America let out a hiss and he pulled the injured hand back, holding it with his left. He glared at Japan, waiting for something more to happen, but the other was running off.

"Wait, wait. YO," America got up on his elbows to stare at Japan's retreating figure. "You just gonna hit me and run, you-!" America paused for a moment. He was trying to come up with a decent insult. "You jerk!"

Nice.

Japan was frantically scurrying, but he still managed to shout, "THIS IS A BOMBING, NOT A BATTLE, YOU FATBUTT," over his shoulder before completely vanishing from sight.

America stayed there, on the street, in a state of shock. _A bombing? Where?_

It didn't take long for the gears to click. Pearl Harbor. Of course Japan did; it was too much of America's navy compiled into one area for other countries not to notice.

Had it come out of nowhere? No. America thought something was coming. It was why he was in Hawaii in the first place: to make sure everything was alright. But had he been surprised? Well… The word surprised was too pleasant. He felt mortified, betrayed, and surprisingly _determined._

 _That skank ass hoe!_ He thought they were friends. Yeah, he may have cut ties with Japan because of World War II, but he genuinely wanted to be on good terms with the dude when the whole conflict was over. America's fists clenched. It wasn't until then he noticed the burning pain in his right hand. He held it close to his face, examining it carefully. Yes, there was a deep scar left from Japan's katana, but it wasn't too bad. America could still punch faces with it.

And right now there was a certain asian face he definitely wanted to punch right now.

"That skank ass hoe," America repeated out loud. "How dare he? Friggin' giving me a paper cut. A paper cut that _hUrTs_. I'll show him. I'll kick him in the balls. That's it. That's friggin' it. I'm joining the war. I'm going to join the frick-fracking war."

America got up and was walking toward Pearl Harbor. From there, he planned to analyze the damage and hop on a hopefully undamaged plane, (he was sure that Japan didn't bomb _everything_ ), to D.C. He was already planning in his head a long rant to Roosevelt about how Japan sucked and deserved to have his ass handed to him.

 **oO"I'm the Hero!"Oo**

Britain sighed, running a hand through his hair. It had been decades since he last had a real conversation with America. Most of their interactions had been bitter, or only between their bosses, as it would take too much of his energy and mental state to face the other. He remembered things like the War of 1812 and then siding with the Confederacy during the Civil War as nothing but a result of his pettiness. The Industrial Revolution was another showcasing of the older nation's bottled grudge. Britain clearly recalled busting his arse in order to be able to compete with America's growing industry, despite the former being the one who invented Industrialization.

The most positive interaction he's had with America since colonization was The Great Rapprochement, and that wasn't even up to Britain. He knew what was best for his country's trade system, so he took sides with the little wanker for once, only to receive America's full-on unwanted (admittedly well-appreciated) vocal support during the Boer War.

Eventually, when he did come face to face with America again, it was during the First World War. He had entered the first summit conference in London, and quickly sat down at the far end of the table. He looked different, Britain noted. His shoulders were broader, he was much less scrawny than the boy who daringly raised his gun at him those centuries ago. However, he still had that glint in his sky blue eyes that showed he was prepared to do anything.

When the two made eye contact, the glint disappeared and America looked almost embarrassed for a moment. However the moment of connection vanished as quickly as it came and they both faced away. It had been too long then, yet not long enough, since they talked. Nonetheless, World War I was eventually won, and the only other interaction they had since that first summit meeting during the whole predicament was at the celebration party.

Years passed then, too. Nothing happened between them afterward. Nothing newsworthy, at least. Britain couldn't help but feel his heart fall at the news of the Great Depression. He knew that America was left in a god awful situation, and even though he didn't have the time to worry about the other nation, (the depression was quickly attacking everybody else too), he still did. He distinctly remembered asking Canada, "Is America okay?" so many times to the point where the other said, "With all due respect, Britain, if you're so worried about him, why don't you ask him yourself, eh?"

And yet, the moment everybody had a world meeting to discuss how badly the depression hit them, Britain went up to America and literally punched him. Like, the fist-to-nose, old-timey boxing kind of punch. America just brushed it off like it was normal and continued on with the meeting but Britain was constantly haunted by the interaction. How could he, after spending months on end worrying about him, just deck him the first time they saw each other since the depression? America really had every reason to hate him.

So to say Britain wasn't sure what to expect was an understatement. He stood awkwardly outside the White House, patiently waiting to be permitted inside. It was a different entrance than the one people saw in the papers. It wasn't the one in the front and center. The door he was waiting at led straight to where he and America were supposed to meet to discuss him joining the war. Churchill was already inside, meaning Britain was completely alone at one of the most patriotic sites in America. Not to mention he burned this exact location about a hundred years before.

In summary, Britain wanted to throw up.

The pain in his left leg from Italy's antics in Africa hurt like a fucking bitch, but was tolerable. Like a bruise from a hard punch. What made the pain felt comparable to a knife stab was the fact that he was waiting outside the White House for so long standing. He rubbed the new cast on the limb, trying to numb the pain a little bit. Despite the obvious irritation the injury was causing him, it still remained the least of his worries compared to the possibility of seeing America again.

And lo, the door finally opened.

"Oh shoot," America looked him up and down.

Britain felt his face turn red and he stood there, waiting for the other to react. He couldn't even look at America straight without freaking out, so he opted for staring at the wall behind him. Would the other welcome him in? Would he turn him away? Would he hug him? Shake his hand? Punch him in the face?

No, he just stood there.

Britain looked away first, feeling conscious of how he looked. He must've looked ridiculous, the way he was staring at America right now.

"Hey."

Britain's head shot up.

"I don't know who you are," he scratched the back of his head with his left hand. Britain noted to himself that the other's right hand was all wrapped up, (Pearl Harbor?). "But this isn't the hospital, bud."

Britain felt all the blood drain from his face, "Wh-what?"

"I mean, _yeah_ ," America motioned with his hands to emphasize his point. "Both a hospital and this place is white, but…"

"I beg your pardon?" Britain stuttered.

"Don't worry about it dude," America waved his hand, chuckling. "You're obviously confused. I mean _look_ at you."

Britain felt his face go into a mortified shock.

"That gauze on your head shows you've been hit so many times you can't even recognize _the White House!_ "

Steps were heard and the door opened more to reveal his boss, Churchill.

"S-sir!" Britain looked at Churchill for answers. He could not believe what he was hearing. Yeah, he was suffering some major injuries right now, but whose fault was that? Certainly not his. At least he hadn't been sitting on his ass the past two years, only to do something once his precious harbor was bombed.

"Oh!" Churchill joyfully grinned, opening the door wider. He looked at the taller nation, "America, don't be silly. Let Britain in."

America's jaw dropped so much that Britain thought it was going to fall.

"Y-You mean- that cripple is _Britain?!_ "

Britain wanted to die. More so than before, (which, earlier, he regarded as an impossible feat). How long did he have to stay with this bastard again?

 **Fun Fact: Around a month or so after America declared war on Japan, military officials of both the U.S. and the U.K. met up in D.C. to discuss the former's entrance into the conflict. The meetings went from January 29-March 27, 1941.**

Oh yeah. Two months.

 **((A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR and thank you so much for reading! This chapter, if any of you were like "why tf is America so much more conceited than usual" that's because this was still before the US entered WWII. I like to think that because of WWII and America's more activity in foreign relations after, that's when he became less douchey and just plain ignorant. (Meaning in the future he won't mean to be a dick he just isn't as educated as he would like to be).**

 **There's a lot of inconsistencies with this fic chapter and the show, but I tried my best to make it fit as well as possible! Tbh I'm just glad to be uploading another chapter. This whole thing is like a passion project for me :)**

 **Also, I feel like some of the thought processes of America and Britain in this fic are kind of leaning towards usuk even though this isn't a usuk chapter, BUT I SWEAR IT'S PLATONIC. The purpose of their interactions outside of usuk chapters is so that some people can see it as them having feelings for each other while other people can argue that they don't while the purpose of actual usuk chapters is to satisfy the people who do like usuk, ya feel?**

 **Also, if you guys also could not tell, because this is the first real chapter this is what all the chapters are going to be actually like. If there's any problems with it or if you guys have suggestions feel free to leave it in the comments! I'm always happy to take constructive criticism.**

 **Thank you once more for lending support and reading this! Have a nice day and happy new year! ))**


End file.
